


Yes, Master.

by starpants



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, F/M, Fondling, Foot Jobs, Hand Jobs, In which Reaper is a big ol' sub and needs to be put in his place, Master/Servant, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 23:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7821754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starpants/pseuds/starpants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re correct in pinning Reaper - dark and brooding sociopath - as a submissive partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, Master.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey reader! This is my second work on AO3 and I'm really excited to share it with you!
> 
> This piece will be a 2nd person POV written from female reader's point of view. This is my first time writing a 2nd person piece, so I hope it's grammatically correct.
> 
> My only excuse is that I need some sub!reaper in my life o:
> 
> Please enjoy!!

Ever since you started living on your own, you'd preferred being in control in every aspect of life.

On the battlefield, you love having the upper hand in a fight and throwing others off balance. You savor the moment that you are victorious over the opponent and stop at nothing to be pronounced the winner.

Among your comrades, you enjoy blatant flirting and utilize it as a tool to tease. You have a habit of providing well-placed, though meaningless, physical contact that you know others will mull over for days. The fact that minds are so easy to invade with so little effort amuses you to no end.

During intercourse, you are superior in every aspect. You love being on top, sucking dick, taking your sweet time, being called “master,” and rewarding good behavior. You adore the sounds men make when they cry out of satisfaction, moan at your touch, or beg to cum. Without fail, groveling men is what brings you the most unadulterated form of pleasure.

You don’t know what path life took leading to becoming such a sadistic woman. All you can say is that you’ve learned early on that you do not like being at the disadvantage of receiving whatever indulgence you are given. Rather, you’d much rather work to receive your own, all the while placing submissive partners in their rightful place.

You’re very good at finding men who want to be dominated. In some rare instances, they throw themselves at you, knowing fully well what to expect and begging for the thrill that only you can provide. In most cases, however, you use flawless seduction to woo men into staying for the night, and they always surrender without hesitation.

Typically, you avoid shitting where you eat; you don't want to mix your personal and professional life, and you certainly don’t want to alienate your teammates over such intimate matters. There was only one exception to this; when you saw Reaper, Overwatch’s newest and most sinister recruit, for the first time, you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.

Ever since meeting, you’ve been constantly thinking about how much fun it would be to tear up his chest, feel his thick thighs, and bounce on his cock; it’s an image of fervor you cannot shake. The only concerning factor is that he's a bit of a... _Dynamic_ character. He possesses an adamant personality and a dark, callous air about him. To many, it seems that he's an uncaring and intimidating man, but you see these quirks and elect to think that they add to the challenge. You’ve vowed to ride out this seduction for as long as it takes, mostly out of curiosity to see at what point which the man will melt to your will.

As you walk out of the dorms and towards the training bay, you think back to the day you met Reaper. Admittedly, you did not hit it off well. You and Reaper were grouped together for a training exercise that neither of you deemed necessary. Winston, who was in charge of the activity, forced you both together because of criticized, "teamwork problems." He thought that if you two butt heads you’d each learn why it's necessary to get along with others... You certainly did butt heads, but it didn't help to drill an important lesson on teamwork. Rather, the fight helped you to discover that he is a capable warrior that is your equal in brute strength.

You can recall the first conversation shared. You had complimented him on his combative skill and offered to train with him again.

He'd jeered in response. "I don't _need_ to practice," the man growled back. You’d found at that instant your desire to hear that voice calling out for you low and breathless, and it was the moment when you decided to pursue the demon.

"Well, _I_ need to," you’d claimed with crossed arms, "There's no better practice I can get than from someone as strong and experienced as you are." He had growled in response to the flattery, though you continued. "Meet me tomorrow at 18:00, on the old training ground. I'll make it worth your time."

Reaper didn’t respond to the demand, opting instead to walk away without another word. Even so, he did as he was told and appeared, right on time, the following evening at the training bay to spar. After that round, you told him to meet there the next day, same time, and he did. And after that, you told him the same and he appeared the evening following. This pattern has continued for about a month now, resulting in you both meeting for combat on a daily basis. You still do not get along with Reaper on a cordial level, but through meticulous work you’re closer to being under his skin than most would even think possible.

When you fight, it's always hand-to-hand combat, as using fire-arms can always be done on one's own time. You are his equal in strength and dexterity, so most victories are determined by who tires the other out first.

Every time you meet, you always try to have him open up a little bit:

_"What's your first name?"_

_"Where did you grow up?"_

_"When did you join Overwatch?"_

They're innocent questions asked to get to know the man better, all of which are thrown between attacks. It’s an attempt to learn more about what kind of person the enigma is, and the knowledge of what makes him tick is what you need to take him over.

He usually snarls in response to the questions. He never answers them, and on a few occasions he outright leaves if you prod too relentlessly. No matter what, without fail, he always returns the next day to practice again. This tells you two things. The first is that Reaper craves the attention you're giving him, even if he refuses to outright acknowledge it. The second is that seducing him is not a goal that’s out of reach, so long as you play your cards right.

A deep sigh escapes as you arrive at the bay. Just as your bag drops to the ground, Reaper appears from a cloud of smoke a few meters from where you stand. "Sparring begins now," he says in that typical, monotone voice. It is _supposed_ to send a chill down the spine, but honestly you’d have to think of the man as frightening first.

You shift your head left and right to stretch the neck and release a satisfying crack with each stretch. "Don't tell me you were waiting in the shadows, baby." You smirk and raise your hands in preparation.

He mirrors the movements. His dark voice responds, devoid of emotion, "I wouldn't dream of it."

And it begins. After a few attacks, you can see that his blows just as thorough as always, though there is a strange ferocity behind his swings today. "You seem on edge today," you taunt as you jab your left and right fist into his chest. He inhales quickly but otherwise shows no sign of distress. "You're not mad about something, are you?" He doesn't respond to the question. Instead he punches with his right hand, a move that’s easy to deflect. His hastiness to retaliate proves that he’s obviously distracted, though you haven't a clue what by. You’re already plotting how to use his own strength to bring the man to his knees.

"Do you have any siblings?" you ask as a right hook connects with his shoulder. He doesn't stagger, but he does let out a deep growl. Out of pain? Annoyance? You haven’t a clue. Whatever the case, it’s not the response you’re looking for.

"What's your favorite color?" Your right shin hits the side of his thigh; he doesn't even flinch.

"Black." His right palm aims straight for the nose, which forcefully hits its mark. You stagger back from the impact and touch your lip to check the blood that's trickling down your face. Reaper is definitely bringing his best today and he shows no intention of holding back. Thankfully, you’re strong in every conceivable way; it'll take a lot more than a bloody nose to slow you down.

Fiery eyes challenge him to attack again, and he accepts without a hint of hesitation. "What do you fear?" the deep voice asks as his elbow jabs forward. You see his action and move out of the way with ease.

"Sweetheart," you coo as your hands take hold of his folded arm. He’s pulled forward swiftly and loses his balance just before disappearing in a cloud of smoke. "My questions are fun; can't you lighten up a bit?"

"Why?" a growl comes from the black wraith that circles around. "You're asking to learn my weaknesses, so it's only fair I do the same."

"That's not very nice," you pout, waiting patiently for the right moment - when his body forms from the mist - to strike. Once it eventually happens, you raise your right leg and kick him in the rib-cage, forcing him backward to the ground. He heaves to recover the wind knocked out by the powerful kick.

Without hesitating, you move to stand above him and place you foot on his chest to pin him to the ground. The mask he wears effectively hides whatever pretty expression he’s sporting, but his pounding heartbeat betrays whatever emotion he's concealing. You apply pressure, appreciating the soft moan earned from him as a reward. It's a moan that only comes as a result of constrained sexual frustration, and that’s all the ammunition you need to move forward. "You seem off today," you claim as a cruel smile touches you lips. "Is it because you haven't been fucked in a long time?"

His body turns to gas again, and your foot smacks the ground. You bring your arms to bar the face, expecting a surprise attack from the slippery bastard. Instead, he appears five meters away with his back turned. He looks over his shoulder. "I've had enough," he barks before stomping away.

You’re still smirking at the man that’s storming off. "Tou _chy_ ," you sigh and turn to retrieve your bag. Upon collecting your belongings, you saunter back to the dormitory, striking today's spar as a victory in more than one respect.

* * *

Reaper slams his fist against the wall behind you without warning. You had been minding your own business, walking towards the mess hall for a late lunch, when he had appeared out of the shadows and asserted himself to you. The action had startled others in the corridor, but you’re impassive, turning to face him and leaning nonchalantly against the cement as the grown man throws a damn fit.

" _What_ are you doing," The bite in is voice is meant to strike fear, but it doesn't even daze you.

"I don't know what you're talking about, darling," you tease casually. You practically hear him grinding his teeth from behind the mask; it takes strong self-control to keep from snickering at his over-exaggerated annoyance.

"You're not very discrete," he accuses. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, but you wait before offering a response. "You want something from me, and you're going to tell me what it is."

"What do _you_ think I want?" you question as you cross your arms over your chest.

"I wouldn't be asking if I knew," he's holding back to keep from yelling and causing any more of a scene, if that’s even possible at this point. In your opinion, his pent rage is absolutely adorable. "Just tell me; what are you're trying to do? I'm tired of this ridiculous dance."

You frown at the man. "I thought you liked sparring with me, though." A mocking gasp resounds and one hand moves to cover your mouth. "Don't tell me you were pulling me along this whole time! That's cold, even for you."

His response is humorless. "Answer. The damn. Question."

He's angry. It's not a scary sight, but you see that there's no point in playing with him if he won't respond properly. "Fine," you succumb with a sigh as your fingers moves from covering the lips to comb through your hair. "You're no fun." He retracts his hand and crosses his arms, waiting for an answer. You shift your weight from one leg to the other before continuing. "I have something to give you," you explain, "but I wanted to make sure that you'd accept it before wasting my time trying to give it to you."

"You've certainly wasted time; both your own and mine." Reaper's response is unfriendly, but you know that every second leading up to this moment was worth it; if you hadn't 'wasted your time,' as he put it, he probably wouldn't even be standing this close to you now, hanging on your every word.

"If you say so," you dismissively shrug. One hand moves to rest on your hip and the other extends to gently touch his chest. His demeanor does not waiver despite the contact. "Look, if you really want it, I'll give it to you. You'll have to come into my room for a bit, though." Your hand slowly, gently glides down and your eyes issue a challenge. "Think you can handle it?"

He refuses to acknowledge the physical contact and accepts. "If taking whatever you have off your hands will end this charade, I'll manage."

You shrug once more, pulling your hand away and turning in the direction of your room. A wide grin covers your features the moment you're looking away from the man. Everything is falling into place, and soon you bed your most difficult partner yet. "It's this way," you prompt while waving for him to follow.

Heavy boots loudly stomp two steps behind as you lead the man back to your chamber. The disbelieving eyes of Overwatch agents watch as you march with the organization’s scariest recruit in tow. ' _Oh, this is going to be interesting.’_

Upon arrival, you unlock the door and enter the room. Without looking back, you wave to beckon him in, which he follows. The chamber is modest and comfortable. It’s small and well-kept with all possessions thoughtfully organized. All of your tools are put away in this room, away from prying eyes; everything you ever need is at your disposal here, and you’ll certainly be using a fair number of toys tonight.

"Sit," you brusquely state while pointing at the foot of the king-sized bed. He growls in response to the crudeness but does not protest. He takes a seat as you turn to rummage through your drawers. You’re extremely pleased with how obedient he's been so far, even if he appears to be so unyielding to others.

"Tell me what this 'thing' is," his voice cuts as you search carefully. You grin, thinking it's cute that he's trying to command you to do anything when it's very clear you have the upper hand.

"Patience, darling," your voice soothes without turning around. "You'll be on the receiving end very soon, I promise."

The man shifts in his seat and you mull over why that may be. _‘Is he uncomfortable in the room? Has he figured out what the endgame is?’_ You’re already feeling eagerness by what's to come, so much so that it can hardly be contained. It wouldn't be surprising if he’s figured out what you’re planning by this point.

"So, Reaper," you speak up. You lay out a few toys on the desk: a pair of hand-cuffs, a small vibrator, and lubricant. From his vantage point he cannot see what you’re moving, and that only feeds your excitement. "Do you take orders well?"

He scoffs, as if the answer should be obvious. "No one can command the shadows."

"So you may think," you respond the same way a cat purrs at a mouse. "But what if I told you that unimaginable pleasure is available at the cost of your own dignity?" You close the drawer and turn to him. A dark look fills your eye as you ask, "Do you bow your head then?"

He doesn't move, he doesn't breathe, and he doesn't speak. You proceed to where he's sitting and pull your right leg onto the bed beside him. He's wearing that mask, so he very well could be staring daggers back at you. You want to believe his inability to act is due to his overpowering desire, but there's no way of knowing unless you elicit a response from him; this is the moment of truth.

"You want to know what I'm going to give you?" you calmly ask as your left hand reaches for his face. He recoils, but you swiftly grab his chin and roughly pull him back to look to you. "I'm going to give you the best damn fucking you've ever had in your life. By my graciousness, I'll make you cum so hard you won't be able to think straight for days." Your eyes glisten and the smile widens, "You're in my house, though, so you're going to play by my rules. Understand?"

His breathing hitches, but he doesn't speak. Even now, you know that his response – or lack, thereof – exposes his neediness, though he's too stubborn to say it. You’re relieved that every moment leading up to this, every opportunity you took to learn a little more about the man, has been worth it. You now know exactly what must be done to reduce him to the moaning mess you yearn for.

You pause for a moment then kneel on the floor before him. You reach to unzip his pants, an action to which you receive no resistance. _‘Good.’_

"First rule," you state. "When I ask you a question, you answer. If I like your answer, you'll be rewarded. If I don't, you'll know."

His cock extends out of his pants, and you’re thrilled to see that is boasts length and girth. You’re already planning the ways it will be uses it to bring bliss tonight. The member is completely erect, no doubt due to the stimulation thus far, and it’s all the proof necessary to show he wants your touch. You smirk, "You're hard already? But I haven't even started yet."

You look up to see his head is facing the wall ahead rather than down to his crotch, and it immediately pisses you off. You rise and crudely grab his mask, forcefully guiding his head to look down. His face is centimeters away from yours when you speak roughly. "Second rule," you command, "You're going to watch me while I fuck you, or else I'll take that mask off and make you tongue-fuck my cunt. Understand?" You see him swallow. He’s teetering on the edge, and he hasn't even been touched yet.

His voice emerges, resigned and deep. "Yes."

You raise a brow. "Yes, what?"

He hesitates, almost as if to keep from saying something embarrassing. "Yes, ma'am." His voice is gruff, although there is defeat that infects his tone.

You bare your teeth. "Good boy," you praise as your hand moves from his face, down his chest, and around his thick cock. His breathing shutters the moment you touch his member, and you’re delighted by his honest reaction. The hand slowly moves up and down, earning a low growl from his throat. "Tell me," you ask as his breathing staggers slowly. He's already unraveling and this is only the beginning. "What name do you go by?"

"I have no name," he responds through his clenched teeth. "I am death."

You remove your hand immediately, earning a low grunt from him. His hips gently buck into the open air, craving any contact at all. You click your tongue and slowly shake your head. "Baby, don't be so boring," you exhale a breath upon the tip of his dick, which twitches from the warm stimulation. "Tell me your name so I know what to call you."

He doesn't wait to respond; he wants to feel the touch. "Reyes," his voice is clenched, as if his chest is devoid of air.

You wrap fingers around him once more to reward his eagerness. You rub the skin, earning a deep moan in response. "That's your last name?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answers with zeal. He understands that he needs engage in a specific conversation flow to receive the treatment that he craves. You’re contended by his willingness to follow your lead.

You bring a pair of lips to the tip of his penis, giving it an open mouthed kiss. He grunts softly; his mouth is clenched shut to keep from emitting too needy of a sound, much to your discouragement. "Third rule," you begin while pulling away quickly, "No holding your cries in. I want to be convinced you enjoy what you're feeling, and I want to hear every sound you can make."

"Y-yes, ma'am," his raspy voice stammers ever so slightly. When your lips return to the tip of his cock, he provides a wanton cry, a vast improvement from before. You begin sucking the skin to reward his comportment.

Your head bobs up and down, and you’re revering the sound of his low voice each time his member collides with the back of your throat. The dick is huge, but whatever cannot easily be taken in the mouth is stroked by hand. His member tastes slightly salty and feels warm, senses you never once pictured when imagining sucking off the Grim Reaper, though you have no room to complain.

His legs flex, no doubt a result of his toes curling from the wet warmth. You decipher the body language seamlessly; you’d only taken his dick less than five minutes ago, and he's already close to finishing. While it's flattering, you can't let him off that easily, as you have big plans.

You pull the entire cock out of your mouth with one clean, loud pop, to which he responds with a low rumble. Your entire body moves away from his so that he is completely devoid of touch and it makes him writhe; it’s certainly a sight you enjoy.

"Fourth rule." Your nails run along his thighs; he is still fully clothed so the skin cannot be scarred, but the twitching of his cock shows that he feels it and likes it. "You do not cum without my permission." He's breathing heavily. The mask follows as you reach to leave a chase kiss on his left leg. "This is my most sacred rule, Reyes, and I will not hesitate to punish you if you break it."

His entire body trembles upon hearing your words. "How do I ask permission?" His tone is even but hurried. He's too far in to act demure and you love his straightforwardness.

Your head rests against his clothed thigh and stares into the mask. "Politely."

His pride is gone. At this point, there's only one thing that he wants and you know he'd do anything to receive it. His voice calls for release, "Please, may I cum?"

You shake your head as if ashamed by his question. Your warm fingers wrap around him again and slowly, almost painfully so, rub along his shaft. "If you want me to bring you pleasure, Reyes, you'll refer to me as your master." Your eyes dare him to submit, but it's a decision only he can make.

"Master," he moans calmly, bucking slowly into the tight hand as it continues moving up and down. You adjust the movements to ease the friction, an action that earns his desperate groan. His pleading growl is such a sweet sound. "Master, please may I cum?"

A smile wide as a crocodile’s graces your face. You have Death like clay in your hands, and it’s the most euphoric thing you’ve ever felt. You take a second to savor the victory that’s already been handed to you; Reaper, Reyes, apathetic sociopath, is willingly offering himself for you to use as you please.

You offer a small kiss on the tip of his cock and a firm answer: "No."

He groans loudly as you stand and turn away. You walk to your desk to grab the first toy of the evening, the vibrator, as well as the tube of lubricant. You’re already dripping wet from the discourse thus far, but you are patient; you know that the most intense orgasm will come after a slow buildup.

You turn to see the cloaked man staring back like a fly in a web. His ragged breathing is in his throat, which he attempts to dry swallow. His gloved hand is wrapped around his dick; presumably, he had been pumping himself while your back was turned, but he's suddenly stopped because your gaze has returned. The filthy boy had been caught in the act. You smile softly but your burning eyes show the truth: you are enraged by his misconduct. He feels the sharp gaze and releases his hold. "M-master," he speaks in an attempt to appeal to his mistress, "Forgive me."

A cruel smile pulls your mouth again. You rotate again to retrieve the pair of handcuffs, which will immediately be put to good use. You stalk back to the bed slowly, menacingly. He moves onto the floor to kneel, hard dick still hanging out of his unzipped pants, hoping his actions will lead to understanding. You reach to caress the side of his face, which he leans into absentmindedly. You note that he gives in to physical contact of any kind, even nonsexual touch.

"Poor Reyes," you soothe. "It's not your fault, dear. You’re obedient to follow my every order, but I didn’t even forbid touching yourself. That was my mistake. You simply don’t know how to act unless I tell you what to do.”

He swallows the lump in his throat. Your tone of voice draws from him the answer that you seek. "Yes, master," he confirms, “I’m lost without your command.”

"That may be true," you hum, leaning down to kiss his cowl. The top of your bare foot rises to gently stroke the underside of his cock, bringing from his chest a shallow breath. "However, if nothing else I am a forgiving master. You've been so good so far, so of course I'll let you off with a warning."

He exhales the breath that he was holding. "Thank you, master," he says it sincerely, as if his entire life depended on appealing to you. "I am yours to use as you please."

"Then prove it." The sugar in your voice from moments ago is gone, and the authoritarian tone emerges again. "Get on the bed, close to the headboard."

His body turns to mist and he reappears seconds later on the bed as directed. In all the excitement, you’d forgotten that he can very easily phase out of the restraints if he wanted to, and it's a fact you'd certainly have to address. You raise one of his arms with no resistance and lock the handcuff around it. The metal is looped through the headboard and clasped around his other arm. He's properly restrained, and you’re pleased by the look.

You leave a slow kiss on the forehead of his mask. "Fifth rule," you mumble, "You are to remain here. Do not try to escape, or I will not grant the pleasure you seek."

He gives an unearthly purr as he responds. "Yes, master," his airy breath replies. He shows no intention of fleeing, and you’re proud of your obedient partner.

You reach around his waist and pull his pants down to his knees without bothering to unlatch the ridiculous belts of ammunition latched around his body. His thick, scarred thighs are bare before you; his skin is clammy and unnaturally pale, though you find you like the sight all the same. You run your hand over the skin, lightly running nails over the flesh at certain points to pull a moan from his chest. "Do you like when I touch you here?" you croon.

"Yes, master," he responds in the deep, raspy voice that strengthens your lust. His responsiveness to the treatment makes you want to give him what he truly wants, but you move forward slowly. You cannot allow his cum, not just yet.

You take the bottle of lubricant and squeeze a small amount into your hand. You carefully rub the cool liquid onto the full length of his cock, earning a deep sigh. The vibrator in your right hand moves to the underside of his shaft where it meets his testis. Without giving him a moment to figure out what is going on, you turn it on to the lowest setting. He moans breathlessly as the toy smoothly runs from the base to the tip. After it reaches the head, it rolls back down the shaft again. You lick and suck the tip of his cock as one hand guides the vibrator and the other gently massages his balls. Every muscle in his body is tightened to keep from bucking into the tight, warm mouth. By this point, he's accepted the fact that this foreplay is as much for your pleasure as his own, and by that extension he is offering his body to be used as you choose. Regardless, it doesn't stop the slow building of warmth as he approaches his orgasm once again.

"Master, please may I cum?" he begs in a low voice as the vibrator is rubbed in reverse to the base of his underside. Once it reaches the hilt, it’s pulled away, causing the man to groan loudly and out of anguish. Your soft lips move from the head and reach to kiss the underside; it's light enough of a touch to calm his nerves a bit.

"Not yet, Reyes," you softly answer.

Suddenly, your right hand smacks his thigh with half strength. You act in hopes of distracting him from his sexual cravings, but you’re almost shocked when he lets out a loud, ecstatic cry as a result.

"Reyes," your mouth pulls a taunting grimace. "Do you like it when I cause you pain?"

"Yes, master," he roughly whispers. "Please, again."

You do not hesitate to strike his leg a second time with an open palm, and he moans loudly at the stinging contact. You firmly smack his muscular thighs over and over, and his cries grow louder and louder with each hit. There was something in his tone of voice that made you act without thinking; he sounded like he desperately needed the pain, and that he may even deserve it. You’re not one to pass judgment, so you can't say for sure if that assumption is correct. The fact remains, he has been such a good boy so far, the very least you can do is indulge him.

His body reaches the plateau, even though the only stimulation he’s received for the past few minutes was through rough slaps. "Master, please may I cum?" he pleads in a rough voice so low and soft; it nearly hurts you to deny him. It's hard to believe that the man laying before you now is the same emotionless void that entered your room.

Your hands land gently on each thigh and carefully rub the skin, hoping to alleviate some of the pain he's feeling. "No," you respond coolly, "Not yet. Be patient, Reyes; you'll have your satisfaction soon." He holds his breath and nods.

You move to lie on his left side. Your face rests next to the side of his head, close enough to whisper into his ear. From this angle, your feet can draw delicate circles into the skin of his leg. "What do you crave, Reyes?" you ask seductively as one hand reaches to pull the hem of his shirt, careful to avoid tugging at the belts around his waist.

"I crave your touch, master," his mellow voice answers confidently. Your foot rises to lightly rub his scrotum.

"How badly do you want your master's touch, Reyes?" The hem of his shirt is pulled just above his bellybutton and your palm gently roams across his toned abs.

"I _need_ your touch, master," his rough voice echoes. "I need it more than anything."

The foot shifts so that it's atop his dick. The arch of your foot meets perfectly with his lubricated member and you slowly move up and down to rub the underside of his shaft. He’s conflicted by the action; he’s confused as to how such a dirty part of the body feels so damn good.

You fingernails run across the muscles of his lower stomach as you reach to pull his shirt up. Your foot continues to move, gaining momentum slowly. His breathing is uneven and raspy, and you live for the sound. After some effort his shirt is pushed up to his underarms and chest is bare before you. Your fingers dance across the canvas; his body is cold, but there's strange warmth that radiates beneath his skin. You move your foot in favor of straddling the man. Piercing eyes stare him down, in complete disbelief that any person can be so damn muscular.

You lean down to leave rough hickeys across his skin. His moans form into words: “Mhhh, Master. Please, Master, right there. Ah, Master, it feels so good.” His voice encourages that you suck harder, bite longer, and leave more marks.

You’re disappointed to see afterward that the effort to shower Reyes's skin with love-bites was for naught; there isn’t a single welt on his pale chest. “Ah, damn,” you pout as you lower your body against his. His breathing hitches at the contact, even though you’re still fully clothed and have no way of providing contact. “I was hoping at least a few of my marks would stay. Now how will anyone know that you belong to me?”

“That isn’t necessary, master,” he breaths slowly. He tugs his arms, forgetting that they are still well restrained, and growls. More than anything he wants to touch you, but he’s committed to following the established rules and he resists the temptation of breaking free from the cuffs. “I belong to you, whether or not the marks are there to prove it.”

“Oh?” you challenge him. Your body shifts to sit up and you straddle his lap. Your clothed crotch rests against his erect penis. He moans softly at being enveloped by warmth, although it’s not the heatthat he truly craves at this point. “What happens when someone else comes along to seduce you, though?”

He moans under the weight. “Impossible,” his voice is low and steady. It’s a sincere tone that’s never graced his lips. “They’d be a fool to try to stand between myself and my mistress. I live to serve my master, and my loyalty to you will not waiver.”

You stop for a moment almost surprised by what he's said; his proclamation of devotion seems oddly genuine. You’re used to receiving this show of affection, though, so you know that just because it sounds honest, it doesn't necessarily make it so.

The way he speaks those words brings you to a point where you can no longer hold back. You slink off of his body and slide to the edge of the bed. You bore into the eyes of his mask, as though staring into his soul, and slowly, carefully, unbutton and unzip your pants, resolving to roll the garment down your legs. Once it's been removed, your shirt follows. Then it's the lacy bra, and last are the matching panties. His breath is low and mellow as you stand bare body before him. "Do you like what you see, Reyes?" your sultry voice asks.

"Yes, master," he responds huskily. His words have lost their urgency, as if he genuinely enjoys the sight and is taking a moment to soak it all in.

You slowly climb back on top of him, and you can hear his erotic breathing once your face hovers over his. "Reyes," you moan, earning an echoing moan back from him. "You've been such a good boy, haven't you-"

Before he has the opportunity to respond to the rhetorical question, you swiftly drop on his dick, sheathing it all the way inside without any hint of resistance. He's nearly howling from how fucking warm your body is and how tight your pussy feels around him.

You don't allow either of you the moment to savor the satisfying feeling of being all the way inside. Your body rises and drops itself firmly again. You fuck Reyes, slowly at first then with steadily increasing speed and momentum. You’ve been so stimulated by your partner accepting your dominance that you feel you won’t have to go at this for very long to reach the spark you seek.

"Master, please may I cum?" He asks you quietly and quickly.

"Not yet," you clench your teeth as you build up steadily on his dick. Even so, you refuse to slow your body, opting to reach to rub your clit instead. It's a view that you’re sure the shadow enjoys.

"Master, please may I cum?" the voice below you grunts thirty seconds following. His entire body is trembling, trying to keep from letting the release take him over. He wants so badly to finish but he refuses to break the rules that you’ve put in place. You’re too flustered in your own respect to appreciate the man’s obedience.

"No," you snarl and continue to gain speed. Your body rocks forwards and backwards, rubbing the tip of his dick against the sensitive spot deep inside as your hand furiously rubs your burning bud. The stimulation feels so damn good. It feels-

You slam firmly with very quickly thrusts and release a low, loud moan. You’re nearing the point you crave. The man beneath you is tense and desperate for the release as well.

"Master, please," he's yelling now,  out of earnest. "Please, may I cum? Master, I need-"

"YES," you scream, "Cum deep inside your master's cunt, Reyes!"

He moans loudly, not even hesitating to hold back now that he has your permission. "Thank you, master," his gruff voice yells as your bouncing continues still. His loud moans let out in time with the pounding, and then deep heaving breaths follow as his body jerks and he jets his cum inside your cunt.

Your fast bouncing continue after he finishes, not really caring to slow down on his sensitive dick. The sound of his voice, the feel of his body, and the knowledge that you’ve been filled with the man's ejaculation is what tips you over the edge. You moan loudly as you release the powerful orgasm without shame.

After the loud cry, you lose all of your strength and collapse on top of his body. You close your eyes as you enjoy the dizzying sensation that comes as the result of being sexually satisfied. His cool skin soothes your body as you breathe deeply through the tingling. His raging heartbeat is the only sound that you hear, and it's such a soothing noise that you’d never expect from the man you once believed to never feel a thing.

You allow your body the time to recuperate from the excellent fucking. After some time, you sit up to straddle his lap again. You take a long, deep breath and stretch your body like a lazy cat waking from a nap. He breathes deeply and you smile in response.

"Well done, Reyes," you offer him praise as you rise from his lap. His flaccid penis smacks against his bare stomach once it's freed from your warmth. "You were such a good boy."

His breathing doesn't change. His face follows as you move from the bed to the other side of the room. "I'm going to freshen up," you call while offering a dismissive wave. "You may go." He doesn't move. He's still handcuffed to the bed, but you know that he can phase out of the restraints now that he knows he's allowed to leave.

You walk into the restroom and turn on the showerhead. You rinse yourself off, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of the hot drops tapping quickly against your skin. You lather your cleanser to clean your body and sigh in contentment. All of your senses are heightened, so you love the feel of the droplets, the smell of the soap, and the sound of the rippling water as it drains beneath your feet. You quietly marvel at the thick, white substance that drips steadily down your legs; there's quite a lot of semen that been released today. It really has been a long time since Reaper had last indulged himself.

Once your body is cleaned, you turn off the water and step out of the basin. You rub aromatic oil into damp skin – a sensual journey you take after intercourse. You enjoy the tingling feeling of your fingers running across smooth skin. After inhaling the floral scent, you exit the restroom, still completely bare.

You’re not surprised to see that the man is gone. Why would he stay? They never do.

You never take it personally. The men you seduce come to their senses after letting themselves go completely, and they leave filled with shame before they can be controlled again. It's certainly not your favorite part of the seduction, but it's the piece of it that you’ve come to terms with. It's an unavoidable part of the game, though you believe that the pros far outweigh the singular con.

You pull the covers of the bed back and plop onto the mattress, enjoying the way that the cloth touches and clings to your sensitive skin. It makes you think of how nice it would feel to have Reyes there, shrouding you in a cool, relaxing mist-

Your mind stops dead in its tracks. _‘Why did I immediately think to call him by his name?’_ you ask yourself. The moment of intimacy is over, so any sort of formality should be gone as well. _‘And why do I still crave his touch?’_ You’ve completely seduced him to your will. Usually once you’ve won, your need is quenched and you move on with your life, so what's different about this seduction?

You think back to what he said. _‘I live to serve my master, and my loyalty to you will not waiver.’_

You suddenly pull the covers over your head and blush - a childish action you had thought to have abandoned long ago. _'Oh, no,'_ you think furiously. _'There is NO WAY I can feel any sort of attraction towards that man!'_

But you do, and there's no use denying it to the empty room. _‘Shit!’_

* * *

You exit the dorm the next evening and head to the training bay. After mulling over the situation from the day before, you’ve decided that it's best to reach out to the man and see how he is fairing. You want to make sure he’s alright, but you also want to make sure that the air is clear between the two of you. You’re half hoping that Reyes - REAPER, damn it - will be there waiting to train, just as usual… But honestly, you aren’t sure what to expect.

You arrive about ten minutes early and wait for the man. It’s characteristic for him to appear right on time, but you were somewhat hopeful he'd come earlier if at all.

At five past the hour, he still hasn't appeared. You’ve pretty much figured that he isn't going to be coming tonight, but you can't help but stay to wait a little longer, just to be sure.

After waiting for almost half an hour, you sigh and accept the situation as it is. He's probably never going to meet for training again. You don't really blame him, but still it's quite a blow. There goes a decent sparring partner...

You leave the grounds and walk back to the dormitory, almost trying to brush off the fact that you had wasted your time waiting for someone who would not come.

* * *

Even after figuring that practicing with Reaper again was a lost cause, you decide to wait for him again the following evening. You did the same for the day after that, and then again for the day after that. You go to the ground and wait for half an hour every day, eventually leaving when he doesn't show. You have not seen Reaper around the base, either. He doesn't attend the escort missions the organization agents are assigned to complete during those days. You feel a pang of dissatisfaction over the fact that he is probably avoiding you. Thus, you must accept that he doesn’t want to see you and that he is not a potential partner to further pursue.

Okay, _YES_. You want to sleep with him again. That doesn't necessarily mean you’re in love the guy. You’re just attracted to the way his skin feels, the sound of his voice, the way he professed his loyalty-

You groan loudly at your own thoughts. You stand, grab your bag, and stomp away from the bay. You’re a hopeless, ridiculous mess. Even if you _did_ hold feeling for the man, how in the hell would Reaper, the void, even be able to reciprocate.

* * *

You feel a chill roll down your back once you reach your chamber. You know that you’re not alone the moment the bedroom door is shut. "What game are you playing at," An echoing voice sneers without bothering to let you get settled.

Your heart beat accelerates but you refuse to reveal any excitement to the guest. "Baby, I don't know what you're talking about." You purse your lips and turn around to see the dark figure of Reaper almost floating in the room. After not seeing him for days, he's certainly a sight for sore eyes.

"Don't act coy," he growls. "It's _not_ cute."

"Fine," you grumble as your shoes are removed and placed by the door. "But honestly, I'll need you to be more specific." You offer a small, teasing smile in the man's direction. "I'm a playful girl."

"You waited at the training bay for the past four days for me to come."

Almost instantly, the tug at your lips falter. Your movement jars, but you do the best that you can to move smoothly through your actions, as if you hadn’t been startled by his statement. "You saw me?"

Reaper slowly cackles, "From the shadows," he responds with venom. He thinks that he's got some sort of leverage on you because he left you waiting for the last few days. As _if_ you’d be taken down so easily.

You turn quickly and jab a finger in his face; if the response startles him, he doesn't show it. "If you were there the whole time, why didn't you come out and fight? You coward!” You’re annoyed by his actions, and you will not hesitate to let it be known.

“I'm trying to figure out why you waited,” the raspy voice responds. “You got exactly what you wanted, so why are you still trying to see me?”

_‘Because I still want to fuck you,’_ you immediately think, but you keep yourself from dictating the words.

"I actually enjoyed training with someone who is my equal." Your arms are crossed defensively over your fluttering chest. It's only a portion of the truth. "Sue me for wanting to challenge myself."

He turns to gas and scoffs. "You're a piece of work," the phantom spits the words as it floats in a circle, "And you're not being honest."

"I have no reason to lie," you say, resisting the temptation to reach out and run your fingers through the swirling mist. "Why do you even care if I'm telling the truth?"

The fog around you collects again into his solid form. He stands adjacent to you, his feet pointed in the opposite direction of where you’re looking. He slowly turns his head to where you are standing, but he does not speak.

And you know. You’ve studied him well enough to understand his silence speaks volumes; it means that he wants to say something that he thinks he shouldn't. You want to believe that he wants you, just as furiously as you want him. The only way to know for certain is to actually have the conversation with him. Your stomach turns upside down and your thoughts burn through your skull. _‘What if he rejects me? What if he tells me he could never admire me the way I want to be admired? Why do I suddenly feel reluctant about doing anything at all?’_ It doesn't matter. You have to take the chance, or else you’ll never be able to move forward.

Your hand reaches to hold the side of his face. He leans into the touch without showing any sign of resistance; that's a good sign. "Reyes," you ask quietly. You voice is low and free from sultry tones. More than anything, you just want to know the truth. No games, no seduction. All that’s necessary is a straightforward answer. "What _do_ you want?"

He stares at your face before slowly pulling away from the touch and lowering himself onto his left knee. His left hand pushes against the floor to support his body. His right elbow rests on his propped leg and its hand moves to cover his heart. He lowers his head before you, leaving his position to be the single most respectful salute you’ve ever seen. "I want to prove to you my loyalty," he finally responds. His voice is the same as before - rough and low and devoid of emotion. Even so, you know it's the truth.

You look down at the crouching man. His bow is incredibly charming, and you can't help but feel you stomach churn at the sight. "You realize," you proceed slowly, "that by offering yourself to me like this, you're giving me permission to do as I please with your body."

He nods, his face still glued to the floor. "I understand," the low voice rumbles.

"And by that extent, I'll always choose to assume a role of dominance."

"Of course," he responds without any hesitation.

You clear your throat. "And you accept that you'll receive this treatment until either you or I grow tired of it?"

He moves his head up so that the bone-white mask stares up at you. His voice is low and sure: "I accept."

You inhale slowly. "Stand," you command, and he steadily rises to his feet. Once he’s risen, you reach for the mask that covers his face. His breath hitches as you slowly pull it up, but his hands stay plastered to his sides to allow you to do as you please. You only lift it high enough to reveal his strong jaw and plush lips. His skin is marred and flawed from hell only he knows, but you still find the sight alluring. Your fingers run along his skin, lingering a little longer than planned when you touch his lips. You feel his hasty breathing escape his nostrils and onto your fingertips.

"Hold me, Reyes." Your voice is quieter than you had hoped. You don’t care if the words sound needy; you have to feel his touch, to make sure the things unfolding in front of you are actually happening. Without wasting a moment, his arms circle around you and you’re enveloped in swirling mist and your arms wrap around his neck in response. The sensation of being held like this makes you feel flushed, despite the cold air. You have never engaged in this sort of intimate, nonsexual contact, but you find that you really, _really_ like it, so long as Reaper is the one providing the touch.

You lean forward to leave a slow, soft kiss on his lips. The movement is steady, but he reciprocates without any hesitation. The contact forces you to realize that all the work you put in to seducing this one man all this time was worth more than you could have initially imagined.

You pull away, cherishing the quiet sigh that he releases at the broken contact. A mischievous tone takes over your voice. "You have such lovely lips, Reyes," you praise. "I ought to put them to good use."

"It would be my pleasure, Master." His mouth moves in time with the words, and there's something that sends a flame through your system. This is the first time you’ve heard his deep voice unobstructed by the mask; it's low and sexy and indescribably perfect.

You reach to leave a rough kiss on his jawline. A hand slides down his chest and stops between his legs, where it squeezes his crotch firmly. The man inhales a sharp breath at the fondling. You can feel through his clothes that he's hard already, and you can’t help but smile coyly. "And I imagine you'd like for me to take you now?" you ask in a rumbling voice. "Lay you out and fuck you good?"

His mouth twitches quickly. "Yes, master," he responds roughly. “I’d like that very much.”

Your tongue clicks and you slowly shake your head. The hand at his crotch slowly kneads the confined member. "You don't sound like you want it that badly, Reyes."

His lips part as he releases a hollow moan in response. "Please, Master, fuck me," his low, even voice responds, though you can tell that he is begging. "I need to feel you. Please, Master, use my body as you please."

You love the way his mouth moves when he begs for your touch.

"I don't think you deserve to be rewarded after snubbing me the last couple of days," you tease. Your hand moves away from his crotch to unbuckle one of the belts that loop around his waist. When it clatters to the floor, your hand reaches under his shirt to run along his muscular stomach.

"I do not," he responds breathlessly as the fingers move across his skin, "Please, punish me for my misconduct."

Your smile widens. "Reyes, don't tell me this was your plan all along." His mouth opens and closes again, lips pursed to avoid saying anything. "It _was_!" You howl as the hand held behind his neck moves to roughly grab his chin, "You naughty boy! I'll have to teach you a lesson!"

His lips purse, the closest you can imagine he'd ever get to a smile. He raises his hands in front of himself, palms up and side by side. It's his invitation to be restrained as you please. You can’t help but find the action astoundingly... Romantic, for lack of better words. Not that you'd understand the first thing about romance, but this gesture is one you certainly appreciate.

Your face leans to kiss the palms of each hand before stepping back. "I'll restrain you before giving the punishment you deserve," you coo as your eyes look up to stare intensely at the man, "But first, strip. Everything but the mask."

"Yes, master," he responds as he reaches to slowly pull the clothes off of his body.

You don’t think you’ll ever want to hear that sweet phrase from any other mouth ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank's for reading!
> 
> If you have a prompt or story suggestion you'd like for me to write, you can submit it on my tumblr blog at:  
> starpants.tumblr.com


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